


Alive

by helsinkibaby



Category: The Following
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, canon level violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Debra struggles against her captors and just as she gives up hope, a miracle happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a comment fic prompt ( _Any, any/any, the rain was soaking them and the alley was far from secure, but they'd never felt so alive._ )and someone else filled it before I got this done. Not sure of the etiquette on that so I'm just posting it here!

Debra struggles as best she can against the two men that are carrying her, heedless of the knife against her neck, of the curses and oaths that they exclaim as she kicks, spits, scratches, uses any weapon at her disposal to find a chink in their armour. In the back of her mind, she knows that she has a little time, that Joe has ordered she be taken somewhere alive; she also knows that when they take her there, they will kill her. The knowledge makes her fight, makes her fight harder than she ever has before, including that awful night in Serenity Hills where she went against everything she'd ever known. 

But there are two of them and one of her and they are strong. They are so, so strong and when they emerge from an alley, when she sees the car in front of them, she knows that her time is fast running out. If they get her into that trunk - because where else would they put her? - then she is dead and she knows it, and she kicks and struggles even harder. 

A light rain is beginning to fall, mingling with her tears because she knows. 

There's nothing she can do. 

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out and one of the men falls. The other stops, stunned, wheels around and she sees someone she never thought she'd see again. Agent Mike Weston is standing there, gun aimed squarely at the man's head, his hands completely steady as he says, "Drop the knife." 

The man tightens his grip on Debra, makes a show of pushing the tip of the knife harder against her throat. Debra hisses as the blade pierces the skin and if Mike hears it, his hands don't waver. "Shoot me and she dies," the man behind her says but she's more concerned about Mike. She meets his eyes, gives him the tiniest of nods and he understands exactly. 

Taking a deep breath she stamps on the man's foot as hard as she can, drives her elbow into his chest and dives to the side. 

The blade scratches her neck, the asphalt burns her skin and the gunshot that rings out renders her deaf for a moment. 

But then Mike is in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, moving her head to one side, pressing his hand against her neck. His lips are moving and she can make out what they are saying, even if she can't hear it. He's telling her it's just a scratch, that she's going to be ok, that she's safe now. Turning her head she sees the man who was holding her, a bullet wound through the centre of his forehead, lying beside his equally dead accomplice. She starts to shiver all over, and it's only partly because the rain is falling more heavily. 

Mike pulls her to her feet and as her hearing returns he's saying something about getting her indoors. He half carries her back the way they'd come, through the alley that leads to the evacuation centre and they only get part of the way there before her knees threaten to give out entirely and she has to stop, lean against the wall. She's gulping down greedy breaths, the trembling in her limbs growing worse and Mike's fingers tighten on her shoulders as he looks at her. 

"It's ok," he tells her. "You're safe now."

She nods, stares into his eyes as one hand moves to her neck, to the cut there. It comes away stained red, but not overly so and she can see his face pale as it dawns on him - on them both - just how close a call it had been. 

Without conscious thought, her arms go around his neck, pulling him towards her and he steps into her, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other going to the small of her back. He's shaking now too as the rain continues to fall on them, threatening to soak them both but Debra doesn't care. 

She couldn't move if she wanted to, and she certainly doesn't want to. 

When she pulls back, just enough so she can look at him, not enough to lose any body contact with him, there is a moment where she looks into his eyes. Just a moment, but it's enough to see everything that she is feeling mirrored there. 

Then his lips make contact with hers and the brick of the alley is hard against her back, as hard as he is as he presses her against the wall. Her arms wind around his neck, her fingers moving through his hair and his hands are on her back, then lower, pressing her against him. His lips move over hers, then down to her neck, to the place where the knife had cut her and it stings, but she barely notices. 

Her fingers reach under his jacket, find the only sliver of skin she can before his vest stops her and from the grunt of disapproval that rises from his throat, her own vest is likewise hindering his touch. "Mike," she manages to whisper before he finds her lips, covers them with his own. 

"Don't," is all he says as he continues to kiss her and it's all he needs to say. 

Don't tell him this is a mistake. 

Don't worry about the people in the evacuation centre, either the FBI or Joe Carroll's band of lunatics. 

Above all, don't stop. 

She knows what he's thinking because she's thinking the same thing and just for now, for the first time in her life, Special Agent Debra Parker is content to do all of the above, forget about the job and the situation at hand and damn all the consequences. 

The rain is soaking them, the alley is far from secure, but coming so close to death, she's never felt so alive.

And if Mike feels the same way, then that's just fine by her. 


End file.
